


Hard-Boiled Pancakes

by hmarie



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Domestic Fluff, Explicit Language, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-20
Updated: 2015-08-20
Packaged: 2018-04-16 06:12:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,125
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4614231
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hmarie/pseuds/hmarie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Harry, please. Don’t eat that.” Zayn reached across the table.</p><p>Harry leaned out of Zayn’s reach.</p><p>“Seriously, Harry! Don’t eat that.”  Zayn grabbed Harry’s wrist closest to him, the one not holding the bacon.</p><p>Or: Zayn tries to make amends.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hard-Boiled Pancakes

**Author's Note:**

  * For [alnima](https://archiveofourown.org/users/alnima/gifts).



> Obviously, this never happened. Unbeta'd for the most part, all mistakes are my own. 
> 
> Tumblr @hmarieme

A continuous banging pulled Harry from his deep sleep. He’d finally landed in LA after a ten-day break with his family. And he really just wanted to catch up on sleep before the next leg of the tour. The banging got louder and eventually turned into a crash. He had to go look.

 

Harry tiptoed towards the kitchen, his bare feet making almost no noise, a baseball bat held high above his shoulder. Once he rounded the corner, he raised the bat when he saw a figure digging around his kitchen cabinets.

 

A familiar figure was underneath Harry’s counter, rifling through his kitchenware. A slight, tanned, frame with the darkest hair and almost no ass.

 

Zayn spun around eyes wide like a deer in headlights. “Shit!” He shouted at Harry, his arm raised to protect his head.

 

“Zayn!” Harry shouted back. “I thought you were a burglar!” He lowered the bat as a hand covered his chest feeling his erratic heartbeat.

 

“A burglar banging around your kitchen? Pan theft a big problem in this neighborhood, then?” Zayn mocked Harry with his signature smirk.

 

“I don’t know!” Harry huffed. “It’s quite unpleasant to be woken up by banging and crashing around your house.” His senses slowly started to come back to him. Something was burning or had already burnt.

 

Harry looked all around the kitchen. His carton of eggs that had once been full, now only had three eggs left in it. The milk was on the counter, sitting in a puddle. Zayn had obviously knocked it over in a rush to pull whatever had burned off the stove. Flour was dusted over almost every surface, including Zayn’s hair. And there were at least 4 pans sitting around the kitchen sink, all covered in a black substance. Zayn had been at this for a while.

 

“I—I made you breakfast.” Zayn rubbed at his eyebrow with his pointer finger. His one nervous tick. Unfortunately for Zayn, he still had a bit of egg on said finger and it was now in his eyebrow.

 

Harry saw the two plates on his fancy kitchen table. Both plates had Zayn’s best attempt at eggs, scrambled of course, a pancake that was a little too black to be considered edible, and some sort of meat, Harry couldn’t fully tell what it was. But, it might have been some form of bacon. Zayn had also sat out two glasses of orange juice, most likely store bought, but it’s the thought that counted.

 

“But, you don’t cook breakfast.” Harry smiled when he saw the bowl of fresh fruit centered between the two plates. “How’d you even get in?” Harry asked, leaning the baseball bat against the counter.

 

“You still keep the key in that hideous tortoise in the garden.” Zayn walked over to Harry, two steaming mugs of coffee in hand. “And since when do you own a baseball bat?” Zayn extended a mug to Harry.

 

Harry slowly wrapped his fingers around the mug’s handle. A small peace offering was better than no peace offering. “Tortellini happens to be one of my favorite purchases for the garden, thank you very much.” He took a sip the warm liquid burned his tongue. “And, I’ll have you know, I try all sports.” Harry shrugged at Zayn’s fond face.

 

“Can’t imagine baseball’s a good one for you, Haz.” Zayn reached out for Harry’s waist, his thumb rubbed through the small line of hair leading below his gym shorts. “Probably fall over every time you take a swing.”

 

“Hey!” Harry drew out the last letter “Doesn’t seem very fair for you to come in here, dirty all my dishes, destroy my kitchen, _and_ be mean to me.” He pouted.

 

“M’sorry, babe.” Zayn kissed Harry’s pout away. And if Harry let Zayn lick into his mouth before actually pulling away, no one needed to know.

 

They stood there staring at each other in silence for what seemed like ages, but in actuality was probably only five seconds. Zayn’s thumb gently stroked Harry’s jaw.

 

“Well.” Harry walked toward the table. “What have you made me?” He sat down in front of one of the plates. Almost everything on it over cooked. At least there was fruit…Zayn couldn’t have ruined fruit.

 

Zayn sat in the chair across from Harry, and picked up a fork. “These are supposed to be pancakes, I only ever learned to scramble eggs, and this is some turkey bacon you had in your fridge.” He picked up the shriveled, black piece of bacon as if he knew Harry would have had no idea what he was talking about.

 

“Alright then.” Harry covered his blackened pancakes with organic maple syrup. Covered wasn’t the right word, it was more like drenched. He even let it run onto the bacon. “Looks great.” He cut off a piece of pancake and shoved in it his mouth.

 

It wasn’t great. Harry tried his best to control his face, but once burnt pancake hit his tongue there wasn’t much he could do to stop the cringe.

 

“C’mon, Harry. You don’t have to eat it…” Zayn trailed, poking around his own plate, eventually settling on some bits of egg.

 

Harry would have to grieve over the murder of his expensive, organic breakfast foods another time. Zayn had come to make him breakfast. To make amends. To make an attempt at fixing their relationship.

 

“S’not that bad, once you get past the crunch.” Harry continued to shove the pancake bits into his mouth. He’d go after the bacon next. Surely the pancake would be a good starter.

 

Harry grabbed a piece of what used to be $35.00 per pound turkey bacon, and slowly brought it to his mouth.

 

“Harry, please. Don’t eat that.” Zayn reached across the table.

 

Harry leaned out of Zayn’s reach.

 

“Seriously, Harry! Don’t eat that.” Zayn grabbed Harry’s wrist closest to him, the one not holding the bacon.

 

With his other hand, Harry shoved the small piece of charred bacon into his mouth. He chewed only a few times before swallowing. He stuck his tongue out for Zayn to see he’d eaten it. “See, not that bad.”

 

“Your tongue is literally black.” Zayn smiled at him.

 

Harry shrugged. “At least there’s fruit.” He leaned across the table and kissed Zayn’s cheek. “Thanks for trying.” His soft words fell against Zayn’s cheek. “But let’s stick with me making breakfast.” He laughed before grabbing the entire bowl of fruit and headed back down the hall to the bedroom.

 

“I can do that.” Zayn promised, still sitting at the table.

 

“Are you coming?” Harry stopped in the doorway to his bedroom. “I’m certainly not feeding these strawberries to myself.” His eyebrows wagged as Zayn stood and almost sprinted toward Harry.


End file.
